Unmarked Campsite on 2N02 to Big Bear Lake – 5-23

Last night was cold, very cold. Despite the pictures yesterday showing that I’d set up for cowboy camping, I actually pitched my tent and used all my warmest sleeping gear. I even wore my jacket in bed, and was still cold.

Bill and Wonky had found a sheltered place to cowboy camp together, and they didn’t seem frozen, so maybe my idea to camp on a windy, exposed ledge had been a bad idea.

We packed up, ate, and got moving. As always, Pathfinder was ready to go by about the time we poked our heads out of our tents.

Early in the day, we passed dirt bike tracks, numerous Joshua trees, and old disused mines, like Rose Mine, probably so named for its soil color.

The endless dirt roads were wearing on us, though so we decided to try listening to some music. We played two different mixes inspired by the desert:  Old Gold and Range and Basin. They’re both compilations of music from the Sonoran Desert from the 50s to the 70s, which is the wrong desert, but we didn’t split hairs and it made the road walk easier. “I now feel like a desert-walkin’ badass” said Wonky, as Link Wray sang about walking in the Arizona sun.

But as we progressed deeper and deeper into the forest roads, the paths showed less and less usage and maintenance.

We reached an intersection where the alternate said to go right, and the locals’ signs said to go right, but I’d noticed some thin roads on my map that could get us back to the PCT a bit earlier if we went left.

We were impatient by now, so we went left, and the road immediately got rockier, as if to punish us for our digression. Our next turn took us under a fence, and onto a steep Jeep road, covered with such boulders that no Jeep could possibly pass.

We sweated and climbed and suddenly, our route struck a neatly-manicured, gently-graded gravel road. This gently carried us all the way back to the PCT. The PCT was so narrow by comparison, I almost walked past it.

So now that we were back at the PCT, we were done with the fire closure. This meant the end of Team Fire Closure.

The funny thing about a group breaking up on the PCT is, you don’t all go your separate ways, because you’re all going the same way. You just start walking at slightly different speeds, gradually separating.

Pathfinder pulled ahead almost immediately, and Wonky and Bill pulled away soon after. We saw Wonky and Bill picnicking on a rock a bit later, but Pathfinder was gone.

The trail led us up into cool pine forests, on the way to Big Bear Lake. It’s a ski destination for L.A. during the winter – during the summer, it’s pleasantly cool.

At the highway, we called our hostel, to ask for the free shuttle. Despite a few calls, they didn’t answer.

We decided to hitch into town, and while we were discussing where to stand, a car pulled over and the driver asked if any hikers needed a ride into town.

We thanked him, but pointed out that he came from the town direction, and we didn’t want to make him turn around.

“Oh that’s alright,” he said, “we just came up here to see if anyone needed a ride.”

They were a husband and wife who lived in Big Bear Lake, and loved it, and explained the many reasons why. Among them was the $10 lunch special at The Himalayan.

After lunch, we went to the hostel, and tried to check in. The person working there said she couldn’t check us in, only “Sarge” could check people in, and he wasn’t available for an hour.

But, she gave us coupons for a half-price beer at a bar around the corner in the meantime. We went there, and they had more than 30 choices on tap. I had an Old Chub Scotch Ale, and Elizabeth had the Hangar 24 Chocolate Porter. Two good, highly-caloric beers for $3 each – Big Bear Lake seems to be holding up to our hitch’s claims!

We chatted with another hiker, with a strong Boston accent, named Bear Sweate. He was carrying a sizable beach umbrella down the whole trail. It was big enough that he and his girlfriend could share, instead of carrying their own umbrellas.

But then we got back to the hostel, and Sarge still wasn’t around. After an awkward 45 minutes or so sitting around the hostel’s common room, Sarge made his appearance.

“Sorry, man,” he said, “I really needed that nap.”

Our room had bunks, and paintings on the walls. Gradually, we were able to get a slot for the laundry, take our showers, do our resupplies, and so forth, but it took a long time in such a spread-out town. We had a late dinner at the only restaurant still open, and feel asleep soon after.